


Power Move

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [75]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Breaking the Fourth Wall, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Takahiro demands an arm wrestling match with Issei and gets more than he bargained for.





	Power Move

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Sportsfest 2018 bonus round 3.

Takahiro’s elbow thumped on the table, and he flexed his fingers. “All right, time to meet your maker.”

“I’m not arm wrestling you, Taka.” Issei rolled his eyes and resumed his lunch. “I’m trying to eat.”

Crossing his arms, Takahiro moaned and leaned toward Issei, face wrinkled in a hyperbolic pout. “Aww, c’mon. We have to settle this, Issei. Furudate-sensei gave us both the same power stats, and I’ve beat everyone else with a four point strength stat except you.”

Mouth full of rice, Issei reiterated, “Nope.” He swallowed and added, “Now eat your lunch or your precious muscles will wither into those spindly stick things Oikawa calls biceps.”

Takahiro exhaled heavily and groaned, “Fine. Whatever. If you’re afraid to lose, then it is what it is. I’ll just have to go the rest of my life with the knowledge that I intimidate my best friend so much that he couldn’t bear to face me in a time-honored test of strength.”

Issei dropped his chopsticks into his mostly empty bento box and sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll arm wrestle you if you stop being weird about it, like, right away.”

Pumping his fist, Takahiro grinned and pushed aside both their plates and propped up his elbow once more on the desktop between them, the motion already gathering a small audience amongst various members of the class. 

“Any rules you want to stipulate?” Takahiro asked.

Issei shook his head. “Nope. Just may the best man win.”

“Don’t worry, I’m planning on it.”

They squared up, and on the count of three, the contest began. Takahiro’s eyes bulged in surprise at the sheer force of resistance coming from Issei’s grip. “Holy shit.”

Brows waggling, Issei smirked. “I told you this was a bad idea.” His smile only widened as slowly but surely, Issei’s arm pushed Takahiro’s back farther and farther until the knuckles were slapped against the desk in a final push of strength. “Are you satisfied now?”

Gawking as Issei smoothed the bunched up sleeves of his uniform shirtsleeves like nothing more had happened than washing his hands. Without further ado, Issei finished his lunch while Takahiro stared.

“How the hell did you do that?” Takahiro delved his fingers in his hair and pulled, the pain of it confirming that he was existing in some terrible strain of reality. “You didn’t even look like you were trying.”

Issei merely chuckled. “Why do you think Iwaizumi is so bent on arm-wrestling everyone and winning? It’s the only way to wash away his bitter defeat.”

As Issei got up and nonchalantly wandered back to his own classroom, Takahiro took the time left until classes resumed to question his entire existence. 


End file.
